Second Target: The Gravekeeper

[Godhand]

The weather seemed to clear as he left Sir Maxwell's keep, as if his destruction had lifted a long and enduring curse from the lands. Still, Godhand knew it wasn't that simple; Xem'Zund's weather mages were probably just taking a break. No, he knew that until the true root of the land's rot was plucked out, Raiearea would continue to fade. The mercenary had at best only slowed the decay. He looked back at Lillian, dozing peacefully in the back of the wagon, belly filled with food that was rightfully his. He knew he couldn't bring her along for something like this; Godhand was going to ride this baby right down to the end of the line and may the chips fall where they may. He wondered what this did to his karmic balance. I mean it probably didn't absolve him of most of his sins, but surely it cleared the karmic debt created by those banks he'd robbed, right?

Oh, what's the fucking use? Fuck karma. The world didn't owe him anything and he didn't owe anything to the world. As far as he saw that made them even, not the cops one up. He whipped the reins in annoyance, pushing the geldings to hurry back over to that settlement he'd liberated earlier. It was then he realized he didn't even know the town's name; he'd definitely have to remedy that if he intended to use the place as his base of operations, which he did.

"Maybe they'll rename it after me."

Godhand chuckled at the thought and whipped the horses once more. Soon afterwards they finally arrived at the settlement. It was quite a sight; the whole town had huddled together near the entrance to await his arrival. As soon as his wagon had appeared in the distance, a great cheer went up through the town. Bemused, Godhand steered the wagon past the townspeople and towards the stables, smiling at the kids running alongside the horses. Was this what Letho felt like every day?

[Dissinger]

"Get out of here you undead piece of shit!" The voice was rather harsh, and the man that possessed it seemed a harsh person. However, it was the fact that his sword arm shook a little that caused the figure he was ordering out of the town to cock his head a bit, as if studying the guard. The foolish swordsman seemed desperate to prove something, and it seemed to amuse the man draped in a trench coat and keeping most of his face hidden under a fedora hat. Still, he tipped it back, revealing grey eyes that held an intelligence none of the undead had shown thus far.

"Oh, I should leave? I just got here. It's not as if I've killed the children to sate my hunger," Was the response followed by a soft chuckle before he gripped the rim of the hat and pulled it down, hiding his eyes. The man seemed shaken by the visage he had seen as the unknown stranger moved towards the middle of town. Was it really him? Had he come to join the slaughter, or deter it? The guard didn't know, so he did the only thing he could think of: he slashed at the undead monstrosity before him.

A hand moved with lightning speed to stop the blow before it even began. A voice filled with bitterness spoke, "I haven't fed on a living soul in three months, guard. I'm not here for your town, I'm here to find more undead to kill. So save your self righteous taunts for someone who cares."

The guard looked at the man before him before he spoke, "I told you to leave!" He seemed to be cowed now, the words coming out at barely a whisper. The hand that had gripped his sword hand squeezed lightly causing the man to cry out in pain before it was released and the sword dropped. The hand then moved and gripped the man by the throat before lifting him up so they were seeing eye to eye.

"Take your damn orders and shove them up your ass," He roared before he wound up his arm, the man screaming, and pitched him down the street, watching as he skipped across the road as a stone does across water. Moving down the path he sighed as he muttered, "So much for low profile."

Before him several men armed with spears were running down the street, obviously in response to their fellow guardsman's screaming.

[Godhand]

The town's elder approached the mercenary, hands clasped together and a hopeful look upon his face.

"Before you ask, the answer is yes. He's dead. I killed him. Re-killed him; whatever."

"HUZZAH!"

The elder threw his hands up in the air and another cheer rang throughout the town.

"Huzzah? Hahaha-hey!"

Before the swordsman could do anything to stop them, the men of the town had already surrounded him and hoisted him up on their shoulders. Godhand struggled, wondering if this was how a turtle felt like when it was on it's back. Finally they put him back down, and the mercenary's hands instantly went to his pockets to see if he'd been robbed while being tossed around. Everything seemed to be in order, so he merely straightened out his jacket with a huff and addressed the elder with a huff.

"I'm carrying something," He pointed his thumb over at the wagon. "Got a girl in there." The elder waved his finger at the gunman and gave him a little wink, which disturbed him, but he carried on. "She was the Paladin's prisoner; name's Lillian. Now this girl is a close personal friend of mine, so I want you folks to take real good care of her."

A murmur went through the crowd.

"Are you leaving, warrior?"

"I have to; I'm not done with the list and, pardon me for saying so, I don't want to spend a minute longer than I have to here. By here I mean the country, not the town. You folks have been positively delightful." Godhand pulled his leather glove tighter on to his left hand. "Anyway, you know the drill. Which member of the Necrosition is closest?" The elder crossed his arms.

"I won't tell you you."

"What?"

"I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to fight two of Xem'Zund's most fearsome generals in the same day. I don't even know how you beat the first one! You will rest here tonight, and we will speak of this tommorow."

Godhand glanced at the crowd, but even the girl from last time wasn't talking. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger before giving out a defeated sigh.

"Fine."

[Dissinger]

"Are you going to use those things? Or are you offering me skewers for the undead I'm here to kill?" The undead figure quipped as he looked at each of them. The elves were a rather hardy lot, and it seemed they hated undead on principle. Still, it seemed they were stubborn about one principle; that the undead should stay dead. Moving towards them, they began to back up before the ghoul, the fear clearly imprinted on their faces.

"This town has been liberated from the rule of Maxwell Anderson! You may not pass, foul undead! This is a village of the living, no longer a food store for the dead!" The guard yelled as he planted his feet, even while the undead monstrosity walked up to him.

"The gods above gave you one mouth, two ears, and a brain to figure out what the hell I'm trying to tell you. You ready? I'm not here to feed on your town, so get the fuck out of my way!" The voice boomed as the guards looked at one another, before the menace took his next action and roughly grabbed the spear, and followed up by snapping off the point. He then took the point and offered it back to the guard as he said, "Now, you going to beat me with that stick, or are you going to let me pass?"

The guard seemed perplexed by the undead minion's actions. He had spoken a few odd phrases, and seemed all the while to attempt to avoid killing them. Still, it was his job to restore order to the newly liberated village, and he was not about to be cowed by such a ghoulish figure, no matter his apparent strength. Looking at the man's eyes, the Elf saw something curious in them and quickly spoke, "You're supposed to be dead..."

"I'm supposed to be a lot of things; late for dinner is not one of them." With that he grabbed the guard and lifted him up. The other spearmen seemed shocked by the abrupt behavior, before the monster set their friend down next to him, firmly out of his way, and continued to walk forward. One of the guards stabbed forward and actually managed to land the blow, hitting the man in the back where a lung should have been.

The figure stopped and looked back over his shoulder before he grabbed the spear and roughly pulled it out of his body, and the man's hand. He then said viciously, "Next one of you chuckle heads to get the idea to poke me will get their spear, blunt end first, shoved down their throat for their troubles. I'm not fucking around, leave me alone, and I'll leave you alone, got it?"

[Godhand]

Godhand was talking to the elder as he walked over to the inn; it turned out his name was Caylen and he'd taken over the town elder's duties after their last mayor had been slain for defying Anderson's rule. Well, there'd be no more of that. With the Unbeliever dead, this time for good, the town was safe. On the other hand, it wasn't quite the great victory some of the citizens believed it was. The mercenary knew that as long as the Necromancer Xem'Zund still walked Raeiaera with impunity, it was only a matter of time before Delion, which he'd been told was the settlement's name, was once again overtaken by the undead. The Necromancer was the key to all of this, but he was too well-protected. He'd have to deal with his generals before getting a shot at The Scourge himself. Just as he was about to enter the inn and resume the celebration from where it had left off, a little girl darted through the crowd and began to pull on the mobster's hand.

"Mister! Mister! Come quick, the monsters got into the town!"

There was a roar from the men and women gathered nearby, and Godhand allowed the girl to lead him to the disturbance. When he arrived he reached for his sword, only to see the town's guardsmen getting tossed around like ragdolls by a ghoul nearly twice their size. The mercenary thumbed his nose and drew his blade, quietly stalking the man-monster as he broke yet another of his attacker's spears. Just as the mobster reared back and prepared to vivisect the creature, he turned to deflect another guard's spear and inadvertently showed Godhand his face. The mercenary chuckled and sheathed his Muramasa before holding out his arm to signal the town swordsmen following him to stand down.

"Enough!"

All of them froze, and Godhand walked forward to clasp a hand on the shoulder of the NWO's resident zombie.

"Are you guys hassling my frat brother?"

[Dissinger]

Seth stood there staring down each of the guards, while they attempted to poke at him with spears. Irritation boiled up inside of him as he would grab the spears and toss them aside, only to have them pick them up. It almost became like a game for the group. Seth would toss a spear, the guardsman would go after it, and the next would attempt to skewer the ghoul. By the time he had finished with one, the last one he had tossed the spear on would have returned and would be waiting for an opportunity to strike.

It would have been comical, except for the fact it was more annoying than not. Finally someone broke up the group, as he heard an all too familiar voice behind him. A strong hand clasped his shoulder before the man spoke of the harassment, for it surely couldn't be called a threatening of the ghoul. Finally Seth let out a nervous laugh as he spoke, "These jackasses with you? Perhaps you should train them in how to use those things, can't grip them for shit."

Perhaps he had been around Dan too much.

The guards seemed bewildered as Seth promptly shook hands with the white haired Godhand Striker. With the tension of the situation diffused Seth let out a sigh before he looked about the town and said, "I was going to come in here and see about bushwhacking some of the undead, though it looks like you already got things under control here. Fucking annoying though, I'm nearing my meal time."

It showed as his voice held a more irritated note to it. It had been hard not to just rip open one of the guards and get to the feast inside. However, he was more than certain that wasn't something the leader of the NWO needed to hear. On any other day it would have seemed odd for such a meeting, but Seth was tired of the concept of coincidence. It was good fortune to find the man in, of all places, here, so Seth just rolled with it. He could sort out the facts later, when he was able to. Perhaps there was a few undead he could eat, at least push back his time limit, till he could feed in earnest.

"So, what brings you to this hell on earth man?" Seth asked before he looked over at his accomplice.

[Godhand]

"Work. Unlike you, I actually have a job."

Godhand puffed some air into his chest to seem bigger. Standing next to Seth always made him feel small. It was funny, because he actually hadn't been that tall in life. He'd just been a short kid; baby faced, all of that. He looked like a damn teen-bopper back then, which he basically was. But then someone had killed him, Godhand had never bothered to ask what that was all about, and he'd just kept on growing after they'd buried him. Now he was probably the biggest member of the New World Order, and his boyish good looks had gotten sanded off as well. Some might say that it wasn't an improvement, but at least now the mercenary didn't feel like he was fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with a young homosexual lad.

"Alright, everybody relax. This guy's with me."

The townspeople shared questioning glances, but they knew better than to contradict their liberator. The ghoul and the mobster strode into the inn, the tables positively weighed down with food. Godhand knew Dahlios couldn't eat anything that hadn't once been a person, so he took a perverse delight in making exaggerated satisfaction noises and staring directly directly into the zombie's eyes while chewing a piece of turkey. He washed it down with a mug of good ale before rubbing his belly and giving the ghoul a toothie grin. Godhand looked around the room to see if there were any ladies present before lowering his head with a grave expression on his face.

"Listen, Seth, I've been meaning to ask you...", another glance around the inn, "Can you even still fuck chicks or does just dust come out?"

[Dissinger]

Seth let out a terrible laugh that saw a few of the patrons jump. The laughter was hysterical as he tried to calm himself following Godhand's verbal and mental assault upon him. When he finally had it under control his voice held a humorous note to it, "Imagine if you will, that you can't feel anything from your waist down. Not that it won't work, but you just feel nothing. That's what its like to be me. I probably could, but I don't particularly see a need to. I also doubt many people are into that kind of thing."

He then sighed as he looked at the turkey that Godhand was devouring. He then leaned on his hand broadly as he spoke, "So, your rubbing in my face I'm dead aside, I heard that Anderson bit it, was there anything left?" His voice held a slightly interested tone. He doubted there would be, Liches seldom left anything behind when they died. Still he held out some hope, consuming the mage killer would at least give him respite, and considering the mass that the man had held in life, it might have even counted as a full course meal.

That was why he was in Raearia, he was looking to feed, and needed food that nobody would object to him eating. He didn't need angry mobs clamoring after him because he ate the town drunk. So, when he heard the undead were going rampant in Eluriand, he decided to perform an experiment. The first undead unit that contained a zombie felt his anger at his situation, before he began to feast, and came to the realization that it worked, he felt his hunger sate itself with each juicy bit of flesh.

After that, it became open season.

He had bushwhacked many patrols, sometimes ones entirely comprised of skeletons, if only to get used to his new found strengths. The weaknesses were a bitch, but he was more than certain that he could wean off them given enough time. It was just the feeding frenzy that was annoying, and he had finally found an okay solution to the problem. Looking up at Godhand he chuckled softly as he came out of the fog of thought, before he spoke up, "Seriously, I'm interested in any bodies from your little exploit, cause I sure as hell bet none of these saps did it."

[Godhand]

Godhand cleared his sinuses with a snort and began to wolf down another drumstick. Jesus, what they did feed the poultry in this village? He wondered if it had been this good before the Necromancer's seizing of the elven nation, and then paused to consider that perhaps it was because of Xem'Zund that the meat was so good. His chewing began to slow, and he gave a Seth a horrified glare when he realized that there was a good chance that the chickens were feeding on the same thing he did. He began to frantically rationalize eating human flesh, and how, well, they were elves so it wasn't really human flesh, and how there was no reason to feel bad about it. No good; he still felt like he was about to vomit. He swallowed the turkey in his mouth with a gag and stood up suddenly, addressing the inn-keeper.

"You! What do you feed these birds!? I demand to know!"

The man merely stared at Godhand blankly, then reasoned that he was probably just shocked how good it was. A satisfied grin came over his face and he spoke.

"Why, only the finest bird seed, sir!"

The mercenary collapsed back unto his chair with a relieved sigh, a hand clutching his chest. He looked at Seth.

"Jesus Christ, for a second I thought you and I were eating the same thing. What did you ask me?"

The ghoul repeated his question.

"Oh. No...No; there wasn't much left. Anyway, I don't see how you can eat that stuff. That'd be like me eating a rotten turkey. But Hell, if it keeps you from raping and pillaging or whatever it is you guys usually do, then more power to you." Godhand leaned forward again. "Listen, I'm doing a sort of...I guess you could call it a tour of duty here in elf land. Taking down some of Xem'Zund's generals. Thing is, there's some messy customers on my list that I could use some help with. I wouldn't usually ask this of you but damnit, it's thanks to me you're back on top. What do you say? You gonna help me out with these guys? I don't mean right now, I mean I'd like to get some sleep first. You too; I could get these fella's to make you a coffin. That's what you people sleep in, right? Coffins? Isn't that what you sleep in?"

[Dissinger]

"Jesus Christ, for a second I thought you and I were eating the same thing. What did you ask me?"

The words were ludicrous, and Seth couldn't be sure if it was a joke or not. Still he raised an eyebrow even as his hat came off his head and rested on the table. Godhand was known to grow a bit paranoid at times; hell it happened all the time in Sanctuary. Banishing further thoughts of the Brotherhood's former bastion he looked at the old mobster before he heard the man go off on an entirely different tangent, switching gears faster than the dead Lavinian could keep up.

"I didn't make the rules about me coming back. I just do as they direct. If they say eat my weight in flesh in a week's time, I damn well do it, because the alternative is I do feed, by destroying everything in my path till I get enough. Rather choose my meat much like you," He said as he sighed and heard Godhand explain about his predicament. He talked about how Seth owed him one, which he guessed was true. The war between the NWO and Imperial had seen him well fed. He had even watched the prophet Ranger Nailo run like a dog with its tail between its legs.

"I don't sleep as much as I used to, maybe an hour or two tops nowadays. Guess its one of the perks. So, just give me a corner in here to take a nap in and I'll be good to go," Seth replied, "As for your problem, I see a lot of good things in that. Mainly meaning I get fed more than I think I could possibly eat. Guess we'll find out soon enough..."

Seth leaned forward and gently gave a slap to Godhand's arm in camaraderie before he leaned back in his chair. He carefully tilted his head this way and that popping the joints in his neck before he leaned back forward the chair creaking under his weight as the two front feet slammed down in front of him. He then gave Godhand a grin as he said, "So, when do we leave?"

[Godhand]

"Oh, boo hoo! Oh, BOO HOO!" Godhand plucked up another piece of chicken and began to chomp it down with abandon. "Mmm, delicious! Yeah! Not a person!"

Deciding that he'd hammed it up about enough, Godhand put down his knife and fork and wiped his mouth with the napkin placed next to him. The mercenary reached down and undid his belt by a couple of notches. Whew, his brain felt like it was dipped in trypthophan and then set to a slow roast. He rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat before speaking.

"We leave...Whenever I wake up. Jesus, I'm exhausted. Okay, I'm gonna hit the bricks. Don't kill nobody while I'm sleeping."

Godhand pushed himself up from the table and announced his desire to sleep to the crowd. It was almost funny how they'd stuck to him ever since he'd taken out those guards; they must have looked at him like some sort of messiah. He supposed it wasn't surprising; when all you've had to eat for months is water-thin soup, even a mediocre stake tastes like glory. The townspeople quickly darted to and fro, inquiring with each other about where he should sleep. A decision was quickly reached, deciding to simply allow him to remain in one of the inn's room. Nobody was occupying any of the rooms, after all; Delion didn't get much tourism after The Scourge took control. Lillian had already been moved up to a suite, and even though bunking with her was tempting, he just couldn't get over the fact that she was underage. Godhand went to sleep in one of the inn's ordinary rooms.

It had been pretty sparse to begin with, but it was positively bare after Xem'Zund. Anything in the room that had been of any use or value had been stripped away, from the mirror to the oil lamp. The mercenary collapsed wearily unto the threadbare bed, burying his face in the pillow. Mmm, a woman had slept there recently. He could smell her on the sheets. The gunman smiled; it was with this thought that he finally went to sleep.

[Dissinger]

Seth was more than certain Godhand had to be high on life. Why else would he go to so much trouble to rub everything in Seth's face? Still he endured his leader's attempted torment on him, before he grabbed a chair, watching the crowds depart. A few looked at him, almost fearfully as he moved to a far corner of the tavern, where he could easily be seen approaching anything before he sat down in one of the chairs. His hat moved to cover his eyes as he tried to relax.

It was then he heard a throat clear.

"You know, its bad form to interrupt someone trying to sleep," Seth said rather tartly.

The throat cleared again. With a sigh of long suffering Seth sat back up and pulled the hat back before he saw the guard he had thrown earlier. Seth raised an eyebrow at the obvious intruder before he put a hand forward, "I'd erm, like to apologize."

"Right, about that, I understand where you're coming from, but how many undead do you honestly get into arguments with?" Seth asked.

"Not many-"

"Exactly. So I would figure the fact I'm a bit smarter than your average undead would mean, you listen when I fucking talk," Seth replied.

"Like I said I'm here to apologize-"

"Do you mean it?" Seth retorted.

"What do you mean?" The guard asked bewildered as his hand dropped.

Seth shifted in his seat before he brought both hands up to his face and said, very slowly, "Do...you...mean...it...Do you honestly mean to tell me you're sorry? Or are you kissing Godhand's ass when you do it?"

"I..."

"Your lips can only be doing one thing at a time, so kiss Godhand's ass, or tell me you're sorry. But if you're not sorry, don't you fucking patronize me," Seth curtly spat.

The guard looked at the ghoul for a long time before he spoke for the first time sounding frank, "To be honest I think you're an abomination. In life you murdered and in death, you’re punished to commit more murders? What kind of God would punish someone with what they excelled at?"

"Wasn't a God, but thanks for playing," Seth replied frankly, "So, since you obviously aren't sorry, get the fuck out of my sight, I have some sleep to do."

The guard snorted as he turned and walked off, muttering thing sunder his breath, things he thought Seth couldn't hear. Oh how he was wrong, Seth heard them, perfectly fine. Still, he let them slide, especially after he had basically torn apart the damn elf. Taking a more restful position he tipped the hat back over his eyes and let what little fatigue he had claim him.

[Godhand]

Godhand had awoken earlier than he'd expected. The mercenary hopped out of bed and jogged in place, unusually chipper. It was probably that meal; Jesus was it good. He stretched a bit, doing all the poses that he'd seen fitness gurus do in the pamphlets they handed out. He stretched out his arms and tried to feel the burn, but he still felt the same. Feeling cheated, he walked over to the bathroom and began his morning rituals. The bathroom was as sparse as the bedroom, as previously mentioned, so he couldn't really groom himself well, but that didn't stop him from trying. At least the water was hot, anyway; the villagers had asked him to tell them when he was going to shower so they could start the furnace. The water pressure was pretty bad, but he supposed you couldn't have everything. He just took a bath instead of a shower.

When he finally walked out of the bathroom in a puff of steam, he felt reinvigorated. His breath was fresh, his hair was groomed, his skin was scrubbed and his nails were filed. Truly, he was a renaissance gentleman. It was then he'd noticed that sometime during his shower someone had entered the bathroom, taken out his clothes, cleaned them and then arranged them on the bed. The swordsman must have been pretty out of it because he could usually feel the moment someone entered into a room. No harm done, he admitted, but realized he'd have to be more careful from now on. If he'd dozed off in the tub back in Radasanth, he would have woken up with a knife sticking out of his neck. How telling was it of his lifestyle that he was safer in a zombie infested hellhole than he was in his own home?

The mercenary walked down to the first floor of the inn, feeling good about himself and his situation. Lord, what a good hot bath can do for a person. It was as if the sun had broken through the clouds, and Delion definitely looked better at morning than at night. He gave a curt nod to the inn-keeper as he headed out, breathing in a lungful of fresh Raeiarea air. Running a hand through his hair, Godhand gave a dazzling smile to the nearest lady before inquiring where his undead friend was. They'd put him to sleep in a barn, which he found rather funny. Opening the wooden doors with a kick, he shouted into Seth's makeshift bedroom.

"Good morning party people!"

[Dissinger]

Seth squinted in the morning light as he saw Godhand standing there, his mood far more jubilant than he had ever seen it. Getting up and dusting himself of hay he grunted softly as he stretched, feeling joints pop as he relieved the stress pressed upon them. The citizens in the tavern had harassed him until he had gone into the barn, probably as part of their necrophobia. The result was that the Ghoul was not happy with his living accommodations, compared to Godhand’s, but endure. His pride could be sated later. Finally he looked at the mercenary before he said, "Well aren't you the chipper one this morning. Do we have our next target? Or are you just that happy to see me?"

He glanced around the empty barn, the livestock had probably been slain when Anderson had taken over. Still he was more than certain this was the only way they would have left him alone, since they could easily ignore him. He had after all gotten most of the night to think, which was probably the depressing part of it all. He really didn't want to think. Why the hell would he go over his crimes, when his death allowed him to atone for them? With a sigh of long suffering he walked out of the barn, and into the sunlight.

He had been here in months and not seen the sun. The fact it was present in the area was a bit reassuring. Perhaps it was that whole guilt complex he had spent two years building, but the idea that the NWO's work had caused this was comforting. Still, he knew better than to ever attribute the work he was to embark on to be altruistic. There wasn't a charitable bone in Godhand's body, it was all business.

Most of the people seemed unnerved to see him standing in the sunlight, even as he felt his skin begin to warm. Being dead had given it a cool feel to the skin, and it usually took a warm day, much like today seemed to be becoming that would finally make him at least look alive. Still he looked about the area before he looked over his shoulder at Godhand, "You know if these are your 'party people' they're sadly lacking in party."

[Godhand]

"Quit bringin' me down, guy! Can't you see I'm enjoying myself? Alright, hold on," the mercenary put his hand into his pocket and fished out the list, straightening it out and holding it before the zombie. "Okay, so who's next?"

"Can't you just give me the list so I can read it?"

"No, I have to put this back in my pocket and if I give it to you it'll start smelling like zombie. Read from there."

"Jesus. Okay, how about the Gravekeeper?"

Godhand turned the list in his hand and read over the man bearing that epithet. The list gave a brief physical description and then a list of skills and abilities. The Gravekeeper was probably the strangest of all the Necrisition, his skills unlike any the others wielded. He was strong and a capable necromancer, but that wasn't the interesting part. Apparently the coffin he carried on his back was a Pandora's box of horrors. The mercenary quirked a brow and looked back over to Seth.

"You know me; I'll fight anybody. But it says here this guy is a necromancer. What does, uhh...How do you fit into something like that?"

"I doubt he could control me, not even my girlfriend could control me. Worst that'll happen? He annoys me."

"Hahaha your girlfriend? Hahahah what? Look, I don't care, man. If you think you can handle it, then we'll do this."

Their decision made, they approached Caylen with their target chosen. The elderly village head revealed that the Gravekeeper was last seen several miles north, devastating the remaining Bladesingers. The horses were rested by now, and Godhand instructed Seth to wait for him in the wagon. The mobster walked back to the inn and helped himself to some salt-treated jerky, "for the road" he informed the inn-keeper. With that done, the mercenary hoisted himself back up on the wagon and whipped the horses with the reins. It was about a six hour ride and he didn't have real good company, but at least they were getting rid of this guy early.

[Dissinger]

For the most part the trip was silent, which Seth was grateful for. He'd rather it be quiet and then get to the fighting than have to endure Godhand's smart ass comments. He had almost forgotten what it was like to be around Godhand for extended periods of time, but he attributed it to repressing the memories, rather than any other thing, like forgetfulness. It wasn’t something he was keen on dwelling upon, and so he pushed the mutinous thoughts to the back of his mind. Seth meanwhile had time to ponder a few things.

He was perhaps at a skeletal bare situation. His magic was repressed, his body was dead. He was forced to eat people to survive, and he still hadn't found a damn one of his knives. The bastards had probably lost them by now, and they could have been anywhere. He was facing forever being reanimated, without any chance of going back to sleep, cause some fucker had stolen his shit and lost it. A sigh left his lips as he pondered how he was going to get them back, at least the majority. He didn't need to leave the NWO anytime soon. Still, the problem was he didn't even know where one knife was, let alone all seven and his bag.

It was at that time he felt a tug, where his heart should have been. Frowning he looked down at the hole in his chest before he felt it again, more urgently. Baffled by the newfound behavior of his hole he mused, "Is one of my knives out there?"

Ignoring any reply by Godhand he focused on the tug, realizing it was coming from the north, where they had said the Gravekeeper had been taking out the Bladesingers. He almost felt sorry for the bastards, were it not for the fact that he would have been the singer's next target after the Liche had been disposed of. He was a little keener on staying alive, than letting his emotions or even this new found ‘pull’ get the best of him.

A hand idly plucked a dagger as he began to play with it, letting his hand play with it nimbly. The knife came to life as it began to dance and twirl in a lazy dance, all the while pondering what the hell was going on. Was it a knife? Was it a calling? He damn well didn't know. Finally he sighed before he looked at Godhand, "Any idea how much farther? Or should I get out and scout?"

[Godhand]

"Shhhhhh-ut up, you lazy ghoul. I'm getting a weird feeling."

The trip had been real quiet so far, which he appreciated. Back when he was alive all Dahlios did was moan and groan and bitch and whine about how he had been battered, violated by life's Unkind Forces. Getting killed had apparently done wonders for his disposition. Now he knew what you were supposed to do with all that stuff; keep it bottled up and away from your friends. Jesus, who wants to hear about how a guy's broad left him for his brother or something? They'd made it unto the northern woods with some good time, and Godhand had been all smiles by then.

But for the last couple of miles, something had been a little off. The mercenary couldn't say what, just...Something. The horses could feel it; they'd stopped their neighing and braying about two miles back. Not only that, but they seemed to get more and more hesitant the further along they advanced. It was starting to put the mobster on edge, and he actually considered sending the ghoul out to scout, but he didn't want to dismount just yet. The mercenary gripped his masterwork Liviol sheath, feeling the ornate grooves carved upon the Prevalida. That seemed to cool him down. He knew that no matter what, there was nothing out here capable of making it past his enchantment.

Finally they cleared the woods, but the scene that greeted them was nothing short of grizzly. The ground was positively riddled with Bladesinger cadavers. Shoulder to shoulder, Jesus; there was barely a patch of ground between them. Godhand's eyes scanned the horizon, looking for any sign of their target, but all was quiet. Just then, a groan. Good lord, it was a zombie apocalypse! But just as the mobster was about to whip his horses into high gear and get them out of there, he realized that it hadn't been produced by the shambling undead. Rather, a lone Bladesinger agonizingly raised his arm to let them know he was still alive. Godhand's mouth went dry, and he turned to Seth before dismounting.

"Let's go see what the Hell."

[Dissinger]

As soon as the cadavers came into sight Seth was already in battle mode. His eyes scanned over the area, looking for hiding spots. The problem was that there were so many bodies, and not enough information. At least, until a lone arm rose up, slowly. Seth's eyes narrowed at it before he jumped off the cart. His steps were calm and cool as he walked forward, his eyes darting about. Something was amiss, you didn't just leave this many bodies lying about, even Seth knew that.

The tug in his chest seemed to whisper now, Come and get it, come and get it...

Now, he was used to hearing such enticing words, after all half of his hard won career had been listening to such things. However he knew better than to assume this was his soul trying to goad him into Hex Magic, that voice had been quiet since he had died, no, this was something far more sinister. As he stepped forward over the bodies, despite the scent of flesh and blood assaulting him, making him wish to take a moment to feed he narrowed his eyes before he stopped, "Gotcha..."

Godhand had been heading towards the still alive Bladesinger when Seth shouted, "Get the fuck back old man it’s a trap!"

Seth burst into a sprint as he rushed to protect the mercenary, before he heard the arcane words. He had read them, long ago, but it was an entirely different experience actually hearing them. As a bolt screamed out of the tree line Seth took the brunt of the blow, as he felt, better, surprisingly better. Looking down he saw a heart grow in his chest, before the bones of his sternum sealed up over it and closed. His eyes darted to where the bolt had come from before he saw the monstrosity that was the Gravekeeper.

It was almost as if Seth's twin had walked into the clearing, a broad shouldered man had stepped forward. One hand had been stretched forward in an attempt to cast the errant bolt of energy that had healed Seth. As the ghoul looked upon the Lich he saw the long duster, not a pocket to spare room, and the wide brimmed hat that seemed oddly natural amidst the chaos. The two of them were dressed similarly, though that’s where the similarities ended. Long white hair flowed over the man's shoulders, dirtied with blood and dirt from the obvious battle. His eyes were a solid black devoid of any life whatsoever. It was a look Seth had come to recognize in the mirror, the look of a killer.

Seth moved slowly towards the man as he finally saw what was tugging him towards the area. The coffin he carried, was held up almost as a shield, but held back, not blocking his body. However, many knives hung from the various handles of the coffin. Hanging from one of those handles, was an obsidian dagger that he recognized all too well, Malice. When Seth looked the man in the eyes the man smiled as he said, "Not one of the living are you boy?"

"Great observation oh master of the obvious..." Seth retorted.

"Your soul hasn't filled your cadaver yet, I can fix that boy," The man said pointing at Seth.

Seth looked back at Godhand before he said frankly, "This guy is almost like a used knife sales man. Doesn't know when to quit..."

[Godhand]

The mercenary had tiptoed through the cavaders, hissing whenever his foot landed on something particularly soft. He ran a hand through his hair, thinking back fondly to the bath he'd had that morning, only to nearly dive headfirst into a pile of bodies when Seth began to screech like a banshee. Godhand instantly drew his blade and turned to face the ghoul, only for the Lavinian to throw himself in the way of the Gravekeeper's attack. It was hex magic; the mobster could tell. Still, Seth had practically invented that shit. It wasn't any use against him. Godhand leapt from his position and landed near the Lavinian, both of them slowly advancing upon Xem'Zund's general. Edoras, as he believed the list named him, merely gave the pair a toothy smile, not unlike the one Godhand had given Seth when eating the turkey. Just then, he reached back and produced the upper torso of a Bladesinger. He'd been kept alive through necromancy, but he wasn't quite a zombie. He gave them a horrible look, like he was trying to scream, but his voicebox had been plucked out of his neck.

Opening the coffin with a flourish, the Gravedigger stuffed his struggling victim into the casket, much to Godhand's horror. He jokingly looked at his forearm, tapping it as if there was a watch there, then threw open the coffin's lid. What came out...There are no words. Godhand recognized it as the Bladesinger from earlier, but it looked like he'd been tortured for an eternity before being stitched back together and kicked out of whatever hell realm he'd been in. He was about Godhand's size, but every part of him below his neck was ashen and grey. His head was expressionless, staring blankly in front of itself. The mercenary gave his ghoulish friend a concerned look. They'd come into this expecting a two-to-one game, but Godhand could tell that thing wasn't going to go down easy.

"You handle the Gravekeeper. I'll take care of this...Fellow."

[Dissinger]

"Gladly," Seth said as he stepped towards the coffin wielding psycho. The toothy grin grew larger as the man observed him. It unnerved Seth, for it was the same look Darith would give him, the knowing smile, as if he knew something Seth didn't. Seth had spoiled the trap, hadn't he?

"Not living, not dead, where do you fit lost one? Are you a mere specter of yourself? I see the real you, impatient, reckless, powerful. Makes me wonder what made you so weak, pathetically so," The man said as he continued to observe the Lavinian. Seth chuckled at the words before the Gravekeeper tilted his head and asked, "What is so funny boy?"

"I'm not weak, you just got the wrong glimpse of me," Seth spat as he raced forward. The Gravekeeper knew what was to come and brought the coffin in front of him as Seth collided with it. The man cackled as he took comfort in his beloved casket continuing to protect him. Until he saw a hand reach around, fishing. He frowned until he saw it connect with the obsidian dagger.

"Get your hands off my coffin!" The Lich screeched. He then jerked it back as he saw a very angry, very hungry ghoul before him.

Seth's voice held a deathly tone to it, "Give me back my damn dagger."

"Boy, I'll make a deal with you, one that I'm sure you can't refuse," The Gravekeeper said before he reached behind him. Seth frowned before he jumped back, sliding in the blood soaked ground as he saw the spade of the Gravekeeper hit the ground right where he was. Seth meanwhile moved swiftly trying to get to the side of the Gravekeeper as he spoke, "Stop this nonsense, we're both dead, and my master would have a high position waiting for you. All you have to do is bend your knee. In return, I'll return what’s been taken from you; the magical dynamo I sense inside you can be restarted, even though your creator never intended it."

Seth made another run for the man only to be hit with the ornate coffin. The holy symbol collided with Seth's face before he went sailing through the air and slid across the ground. He almost immediately righted himself to his feet before he came to a halt the hat flying off as his hair formed a curtain in front of his face. Seth's features were taut, before with a grace he rushed at the man again, "You must not know what a Lavinian is, because I don't bow before anyone, dead or alive!"

The Coffin knocked him again, this time sending him sailing into a tree before the ghoul hit the ground with a grunt. Slowly rising he glowered at the Gravekeeper who seemed composed and further, still fresh. Seth's chest heaved even as the rote action of breathing seemed to be draining. The Gravekeeper smiled as he said, "Come now boy, you were once great, we only seek to restore you to your former glory. Is that so hard to believe?"

Seth drew both daggers in response, before he spoke tersely, "Everything has a price, and yours is too high Gravekeeper..." He then began to slowly move forward, knowing that rushing in would get him nowhere. Even if he had landed a blow, he was undead; Seth couldn't do any damage that the man wasn't already able to take. He had to wear him down, and set him up for a surprise he might never recover from.

[Godhand]

Godhand stared impassively at the creature before him. It's tongue rolled out, hanging limply off the side of it's mouth. Godhand grit his teeth when the appendage suddenly sloughed off uselessly. The mercenary cleared his throat and resolved to finish the battle quickly, walking forward purposefully and grabbing the back of the undead Bladesinger's neck before driving his forearm into it's face. The monster's head recoiled with a snap and he stepped back. It took a moment to collect itself before walking back over to Godhand and mimicking the attack exactly, smashing it's forearm into the mercenary's face. Godhand's teeth shook with the hit and he stumbled backwards, giving the monster a surprised look. He walked back over and hit the forearm smash again, and the creature came back with yet the same attack, only with even more power than last time.

The gunman hit one knee and propped himself up with his right arm, shaking his head to clear the fog looming in his mind. He pushed himself back up onto his feet and responded with a VICIOUS right roundhouse punch. The monster was nearly knocked off his feet but Godhand placed a hand on it's neck and hit the forearm smash again before landing one final roundhouse punch. The Bladesinger crumpled to the ground, holding it's head. But then, out of nowhere, it's hand shot forth and he cracked Godhand across the ribs. The mercenary doubled over, clutching his abdomen and slowly turning away from the monster. Before he could collect himself however, the creature got to it's feet, placed a hand on the mobster's head and then reared back, landing an elbow on the back of his neck. Godhand fell to his knees and the creature pressed it's advantage with a series of clubbing blows to his back and head.

The swordsman's breath came out in short, heated puffs as he felt his lungs slowly give to the assault. Clenching his jaw, the mercenary suddenly grabbed both of the creature's legs and sprung to his feet, spinning on his heel to deliver a picture perfect spinebuster. He managed to mount the beast and delivered a couple of punishing right hands to it's skull, before it countered by grabbing the swordsman's head and driving it into his own. The mercenary rolled backwards, stunned, and both he and the creature tried to regain their breath.

[Dissinger]

The world had shrunk, the only occupants in it was the Gravedigger, and Seth himself. A contest of wills that would rival the stories of old was forming, even as this monstrosity of a Lich was grinning at him. Seth finally was within reach of the Gravekeeper as they circled each other slowly. Seth knew he could potentially out speed the man, he just had to get him off guard. The coffin was now held prominently between them, a constant reminder of its purpose, to shield the bastard from anything the Ghoul could throw at him.

"What if I said you don't have to bend knee or waist to my master?" He began again.

"I'd say you can take your offer and shove it. I'm not for sale," Seth replied.

"Oh, but your magic, you need it, I can see it welling up in you. It threatens to overcome its boundaries, but it can't, not without help. I can be that help Seth Dahlios," The man said, for the first time using Seth's name.

Seth suddenly reached out and grabbed the Coffin by the handle on its side. The Gravekeeper let out a cry of surprise as Seth slowly began to spin, the coffin in tow, along with the Gravekeeper. When Seth spoke next his voice finally showed the tone of frustration he had, "Use a damn coffin as a shield, expect to get it torn away!" He then released the coffin, and the Gravekeeper, coffin and all was sent flying before it landed on the ground in a cloud of dust. Seth continued to walk forward as he looked at the knives that now littered the ground about them. Finally he picked up the knife and smiled, it was Malice alright.

The Gravekeeper stood up, a look of anger on his face as he said, "You bothersome ghoul. I should have known I couldn't charm you. Fine, I'll just tear you apart." He then moved forward towards Seth and brought the coffin about in a devastating blow. That would have been impressive Had Seth not moved with the blow and grabbed once again onto the railings. He then wrenched hard, and tore the arm that connected the Gravekeeper to the coffin. He then tossed the coffin behind him.

The Gravekeeper looked at Seth as Seth moved forward, Malice moving slowly in his hand, "You threaten to kill me? That’s a laugh; it took a monstrosity worse than me to kill me. A monstrosity made by the man who made me, good luck with that." He then threw a punch that sent the gravedigger reeling, until the shovel was brought about and cut through his soft stomach. Seth growled in irritation as the Gravedigger Brought the shovel around in a downward stroke. Sidestepping it he moved swiftly and stomped down upon the spade.

The Gravekeeper looked up at Seth before he saw Seth had a grin of his own on his face, one that seemed to say, lunch time.

[Godhand]

Suddenly the abomination sat up unphased, as if their previous exchange had never occurred, and pushed itself back to it's feet. Godhand scrambled away, crawling across the bodies before the monster grabbed him by his hair and pulled him up to his feet. The creature suddenly pulled the mercenary into a headlock, lifting him up into the air while tightening it's arm to cut off circulation to his brain. He managed to hold him there a moment before leaping backwards, hitting a delayed vertical suplex on the mobster.

Godhand sat up immediately after hitting the ground, wincing and trying to reach back with his arm and put some pressure on his spine. Just then the creature ran forth and hit a low angle dropkick on the poor bastard's neck, sending him spinning away on the ground. The creature stalked Godhand, practically salivating as it waited for the mercenary to get to his feet. Godhand sensed this and took his time, doing his best to recuperate until finally managing to get himself upright again. Just as he turned to face the creature, he countered it's clothesline by catching the incoming arm at the wrist and executing an armtrap crossface.

The mercenary pulled at the creature's neck and shoulder with all the strength he could muster, furiously attempting to end the battle there and then. No such luck. Even though the monster made a sickening gurgling sound every time Godhand turned up the pressure, it still wasn't going down. Unbelievably, it actually managed to work it's way unto it's feet with the mobster hanging off it's back. It stumbled it's way over to a tree and crouched, grabbing the trunk, before lunging at it back first. Godhand's head bounced off the wooden trunk, but he hung on. One, two, but by the third time it drove Godhand's body unto the wood he'd had enough. He uncoiled from the creature, rolling off it's back and falling to the ground.

He crawled away from the creature, slowly working his way back to his feet only for the abomination to run up and hit a bulldog on the mobster. The mercenary hacked out a whining cough when he hit the ground, his stomach landing right on some elf's propped up elbow. Before he could understand what was happening, the creature had thrown his head between it's legs and lifted him up. Sitting up on it's shoulders, Godhand understood that it was looking to end the fight then and there with a powerbomb. With what little presence of mind he had left, he straddled the creature's head and just when it attemped to throw the monster unto the dirt, he countered with a hurracanrana.

Frankenstein had gotten a Frankensteiner. How appropriate.

[Dissinger]

The Gravekeeper was on his last legs as Seth reached him, and buried Malice up to the hilt in the man's gut. As he let out a gurgling whimper the black ichor that fueled him continued to pour from the stump of his shoulder. This man was nearing the end, and Seth had just the way to make sure the bastard wouldn’t snatch a victory. The man looked up at him pitiably as he said, "Come on Dahlios, you can't honestly-"

Seth began to hum before he sang the old childhood song, "I'm not listening, oh I'm not listening..." Seth then grabbed the man by his hair and roughly pulled him to his feet. He then looked at the man, seeing the pitiful shape he was in. A sadistic grin crossed his face as he said, "I may just save that arm for later, make a good midnight snack..." All the while the Gravedigger was whimpering and pleading. Seth had after all ripped an arm out of socket, bent his shovel by stomping on it, and proceeded to bury a knife in his gut.

Finally he managed, "I'll restore your magic!" The necromancer's promised treat seemed more and more to degenerate from a gift, to a hopeful statement. Seth could only snicker at the desperation he detected in the Lich's frame. From a Lich though he did seem rather adverse tot he concept of death. Almost as if he was afraid of it. Still the littered bodies around made Seth's choice simple enough, the bastard had to die.

Seth stopped as he looked at the man, "You keep promising the impossible. You can't restore my magic, its not something that can be used by the undead. The whole trade bits of your soul part make that hard. I know its a hard concept to grasp, but bear with me on this one..."

"Not true, Mordechai can-"

"If you know so much about my creator, where is he?" Seth asked.

"Please I can-"

Seth promptly grabbed the man and hoisted him over a shoulder so his legs draped off his back. A sigh crept from his lisp before he said, "Well, last chance to tell me where he is; otherwise I'm going to have to kill ya."

"I don't know!" The Lich spat. Seth chuckled as he could almost smell the fear. It was an intoxicating stench to say the least. Still Seth wasn't about to go after Mordechai anyways, not like this. Finally he smiled as he moved swiftly. Dropping to his knees as he slid the man down his shoulder, Seth forced the Gravekeeper to impact headfirst into the ground. The sounds of bones cracking resounded through the area as Seth shattered every vertebrae in the Gravekeeper's back. Leaving the body like an ostrich he whistled a soft tune as he casually flicked the body off his shoulder.

Plucking malice from the fleshy holster it had been stuck in he smiled as he looked over at Godhand, "Need some help there old man?"

Spoils of War:

Upon eating so many magic laced corpses, Seth Dahlios has come to find that his own magic has slowly begun to reawaken in him. His ability to gain new spells, is still impeded, but his spells have returned in full order.

Seth regains the Obsidian Dagger of Titanium strength Dubbed "Malice".

[Godhand]

"Shut the fuck up!"

Godhand got back to his feet, infuriated that the zombie had managed to finish off the Gravedigger before the mercenary could put away his minion. The creature worked it's way back up to it's feet, dazed, but the mobster merely hit it with a clothesline that brought them both down. The mercenary hit a kip up and pulled the monster back up by it's scalp before nailing it with a haphazard barrage of uppercuts, short roundhouses and a couple of forearm strikes. Eventually the monster was propping itself up by holding on to Godhand's chest, but he merely grabbed the back of it's head with his left hand and fired a string of rights into it's face. When it finally hit it's knees, the mobster hoisted him up by the waist and turned over to Seth.

"Open the fucking coffin!"

The ghoul did as he was told, and before the abomination could regain it's bearings, Godhand ran forth and Awesome Bombed it into the coffin and back to Hell. The mercenary immediately shut the casket, activating all it's locks and driving his elbow into them to make sure they stayed jammed that way forever. There was absolutely nothing good that could come from the other side of that coffin, and he honestly never wanted to see an abomination like that again.

Just as the mercenary was prepared to call it a day, however, the Gravekeeper seemed to regain whatever dark consciousness he possessed and pulled his head out of the dirt, searching blindly for his enemies. Godhand leapt forth desperately before stabbing it in the forehead with the mouth of his sheath, just as he'd done with Anderson. The sound was the same as last time; like blood getting sucked into a shower drain, and the Edoran's body quickly dried up until it looked like an unwrapped mummy. The mercenary pulled the sheath from the cadaver's skull with a gasp, and Xem'Zund's general instantly crumbled into dust.

Godhand fell to one knee, looking back over to the elf that had flagged them down in the first place. No good; it looked like he'd passed away once the battle started. He turned back to Seth.

"...That's enough. Let's get out of here."

Both men, bruised and battered, climbed back unto the wagon and began the long trip back to Delion. Seth brought some corpses for the road though, the fucking degenerate.

Quest Spoils: Godhand's sheath has absorbed Edorad Graves' soul. The significance of this is currently unknown.

[AdventWings]

Story

Continuity - 5

Although I understand that this is a continuation of a previous Featured Quest dealing with Xem'Zund's generals, the disjointed relation to the past events did not do well to convey how you came to be in such a position or who Lillian was. There were also a number of NPCs you mentioned in the first post who I had no idea how they were related to this story. And who the heck is Letho? (Ha)

Setting - 6

OK, both of you took advantage of using the surroundings and interacting with them. Although it did not really seem to spice the story anymore than scenery, it was adequate enough to get the story done while not exactly bringing it up to a "Must Read" status.

Pacing - 4

Well, the story certainly took a while to get to the real meat of the burger. Almost half of the story was about the casual get-together between the two NWO operatives, a quarter on getting to your location and the last quarter about the actual battle. In literature, taking that long to let the story develop without any foreshadowing can make for a bland reading.

Also, try a little harder when you bounce posts off of each other. The problem in this type of forum-based, play by post RPG is that in writing, we almost always try to insert what we did while the other person was doing something else. Sure, it's good for role-playing purposes (at least to keep track of what the other's doing) but when you put it together, it tends to be messy. The most prominent examples can be seen in post transitions from Post #7 through Post #11, although I must admit the transition from #6 to #7 is a fine example of how not to confuse the readers.

Writing Style

Mechanics - 4

Ugh. Pardon me, but... Ugh. Too many typos, run-ons and general grammar errors I could count from both of you - Godhand, you're more at fault here with the kind of rapid, spontaneous writing that you're used to. Watch out for those mistakened misspells (you have a surprising tendency to write "unto" in places that "into" and "onto" seem appropriate). Dissinger, while you don't have that many errors, please be careful about sentence organizations. While it is tempting to write in the same manner as one were to speak, it tends to become a nasty run-on. An example would be from Post #12


"Right, about that, I understand where you're coming from, but how many undead do you honestly get into arguments with?" Seth asked.

I've underlined what could be separated to form their own sentences while the original message remained clear - Perhaps a bit clearer, but that's up to the readers to decide.

Technique - 4

Apparently, it's in there somewhere. Dissinger used a lot of Simile and Metaphor, as well as Godhand. I also saw that ironic narration about the Frankenstein getting the Frankensteiner, but you will have to go easy on the Pro Wrestling terminologies. Not everyone watches WWF Smackdown or RAW in their free time. :p

Clarity - 4

Well, I attribute this to the rapidity of completing the thread as well as the spontaneity of it all. And, really, is Raiaera that hard to spell? (No offense - I know you were pressed for time and did not want to be bothered with looking it up.) Also, the inclusion of numerous wrestling moves made my head spin - At least I understood what a Spinebuster. But, what's a Hurracanrana?

Character

Dialogue - 7

Allowing bunnying of each other's characters is a nice strategy, since it saved a lot of posts that needed to be made for the dialogues. I'll give you credit on playing that out nicely.

Action - 6

While I must admit the Gravekeeper appeared less able than I imagined him to be, I had to be constantly reminded by my assistant (little NeNeNe and Minxia) that Seth Dahlios is a Level 11 Undead Hex Magi. Of course, the Undead General got nothing on the Lavinian. Godhand played a comical struggle against the undead minion, although it was slightly hard to tell exactly what was going on with all the wrestling moves being thrown about all over the place.

Persona - 7

Although the word "generic" came to mind, the portrayal of each characters here went quite beyond that. The townfolks remained generic townfolks, saved for the actual important ones like the guards and the mayor who responded with the hint of hesitation in his voice. The Gravekeeper sounded a little flat, but at the same time was well-portrayed as a manipulator of emotions as well as a recruiter into the Undead ranks. Too bad he had to die - He would have made a great antagonist NPC

Miscellaneous

Wild Card - 7

Not outstanding for the most parts, though, but I must admit Seth Dahlios was really cool here.

Oh, yeah. And the Spinebuster FTW. :D

FINAL SCORE – 54!

((Rewards + Spoils))

Godhand receives 2400 EXP and 250 GP, as well as the Absorbed Soul of Edorad Graves.
Dissinger receives 3000 EXP and 200, along with returning Magic capabilities and his Titanium dagger Malice.

See you next time!

[Zook Murnig]

EXP AND GP ADDED!

DISSINGER LEVELS UP!